


His Girl

by WeezlBot



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fights, Flower Symbolism, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Pining, Quests, Swearing, but not in a bad way, mentions of Apollo kids, so much swearing it's not even funny, very slightly possessive Sherman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeezlBot/pseuds/WeezlBot
Summary: In the wake of war, one young man finds new ground to conquer.Rated a hard T for a LOT of swearing.
Relationships: Clarisse La Rue/Chris Rodriguez, Miranda Gardiner/Sherman Yang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	1. "Some of us are bad at talking to women"

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after Manhattan.  
> Also, forgive me if the CHB topography isn't 100% accurate in this. I don't always remember where things are in relation to other things.  
> Also also, at this point the minor PJO characters are as interesting to me as the mains. Speaking of minors, Chiron may be a little OOC here. For some reason I can't quite get his character right.

_Thunk._

_Click-click-click-thunk._

Sherman watched as the rock he’d just kicked skittered across the cabin main and bounced off the stern gray facade of the Athena cabin. For some reason, he found himself thanking the gods that it hadn’t hit Cabin 4. Despite the fact that he wasn’t usually a flower guy, he decided to attribute it to the delicate pink roses that were growing up along the walls. 

He yawned and took a look back at the Ares cabin. He could see the tarp on the side where Annabeth and Clarisse had knocked out a wall to make room for the new bathroom they were gonna build. It was gonna suck to not have proper insulation for a month or two, but he figured it would eventually work out. Somehow it always did. 

His mind wandered. Unfortunately, it was only to one unpleasant thing after another. Fucking Clarisse. Keeping Ares out of Manhattan and letting the Apollo bastards steal the glory. _Figures she would let something so petty keep us out of the battle. You know, when I’m Head Counselor, I’m gonna pick my battles better._ He thought of Silena, remembering how he had spied on her as she donned Clarisse’s armor and spear. He hadn’t cared that he was following a false leader, he just wanted to see some action before the battle was over. Well, he got his wish. He couldn’t even say which had affected him more, seeing his brother get eaten by a drakon, seeing Silena die, seeing his sister grieve so violently for her friend or seeing Miranda, who he’d privately begun thinking of as _his_ girl even though she really wasn’t, lying half-dead in an infirmary bed with half her body in casts and vomit caked in her hair. 

Sherman kicked another rock. This one skidded into a scrubby little bush that was growing between Athena and Artemis’s cabins. He growled low in his throat and sought out another rock to kick. The one he found was a pleasant round shape, very kickable. Sherman’s leg tingled all the way up to his groin as he wound up for the kick. The kick itself sent shivers down his spine. The rock flew in a near-perfect arc, skipping lightly between the Zeus and Hera cabins and out of the cabin main. It glinted tantalizingly in the light as it came to a stop, gracing the hill like a crown. Sherman ran after it and kicked it again. It bounced down the hill and skipped in between two rows of strawberry bushes at the beginning of the fields. Unfortunately, it was too late in the year for there to be actual berries on the bushes. However, he could still see a few scattered campers tending the plants. 

He snorted and kicked the rock again. It soared helter-skelter over a few rows of plants. A second later, he heard a girl yelp. A head trailing light brown curls appeared over the bushes. _Shit._ “Miranda!”

“Sherman?” She seemed more confused than anything.

“I… I thought you were still in the infirmary!” Sherman stammered. _Fuck, I’m so stupid._

“I just got out like… an hour ago,” Miranda managed. 

Sherman ran around the sides of the rows and appeared by her side. Her arm was in a dark blue hospital sling. He could see a bandage peeking out of the bottom of her shirt. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “... Uh… do you feel okay?”

“... Better,” Miranda managed. “It’s nice to be close to the plants again at least.”

Sherman nodded. “... Okay.”

Miranda looked at him. She looked paler than before, but still beautiful. “... Is that all you can say?”

Sherman shuffled his feet again. He wanted that rock back. “... I… listen, Miranda, I…”

“You?”

“... I’m sorry.”

“For hitting me in the stomach with a rock? It’s fine. You didn’t know I was there.”

“No, for… for…” Sherman’s tongue felt like lead. “... for not being there for you in the Battle of Manhattan.”

Miranda started. “... Why are you apologizing? It’s not your job to protect me. Besides, we’re not even that close I don't think."

Sherman’s shoulders sagged. “... I… yeah, I know, but…” 

“But?”

“... Never mind.” Sherman balled his hand into a fist and hit his thigh. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Miranda replied placidly. “I won’t.” She sat down, delicately folding her legs and leaning into the bush, letting the leaves envelop her.

Sherman studied her face. A light breeze came by, stirring her hair around her face. The sun made her hair glow golden brown. Sherman wanted to touch it. Her vivid green eyes stared off into space. He could see the bushes reflected in them.

His eyes trailed down. He suddenly noticed that she was wearing floral-print shorts that came almost to her knees. He wondered if she just liked longer shorts or if she was worried about coming off slutty.

“You’re staring,” Miranda said simply. “I mean, I know I’m not in the best of shape but I can’t be that bad.”

“... You don’t look bad at all,” Sherman mumbled.

“Good,” Miranda sighed. 

There was a long pause. Miranda gave a long blink. “You wanna sit down, or do you just wanna stand there like an awkward scarecrow?”

Sherman sat, leaning into the bush in order to be eye to eye with her. 

“You’re _still_ staring. Why do you stare at me so much?”

“... Cut me some slack. I’m a fighter, not a talker,” Sherman grumbled.

“Still doesn’t answer my question, Shermie.”

 _…_ _Shermie_ _? What?_ “... Well… some of us are bad at talking to women.”

“So just because I happen to possess female genitalia you are suddenly completely unable to converse with me?”

“No!” Sherman snipped. “I don’t care about that, Randa.”

Miranda laughed. “Randa. Hah, that’s a new one. You’re funny, you know that?”

Sherman scowled. “... No I’m not.”

Miranda giggled some more. “Right, of course.”

Sherman twisted a leaf off the bush. Miranda gasped. “Don’t hurt it!”

Sherman stopped. “Don’t hurt what?”

“The bush! The leaf wasn’t ready to fall off. It was a perfectly healthy leaf. You didn’t need to tear it off.”

“... So when _is_ it acceptable to take fruit or leaves or whatnot off of bushes?”

“If the fruit is ripe and ready to fall off, you can take it off and it won’t hurt. If the leaf is rotten or full of caterpillars or something, you can take it off.”

“Like a gangrenous limb,” Sherman murmured.

“Yeah, exactly,” Miranda nodded. “See, you’re smarter than people take you for.”

“I… okay, what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Miranda shrugged, then winced slightly as the shrug disturbed her sling. “I mean, they all say that you’re just some big musclehead meatball just because you’re an Ares kid.”

“I’m aware,” Sherman muttered. “But honestly, I don’t really care that much.”

“That’s good,” Miranda murmured. “I’m glad you’re not made unhappy by it.”

Sherman nodded. There was another pause. Miranda took him in. At first sight, he didn’t look like much. He wasn’t particularly tall or beefy. He wasn’t particularly charismatic. But there was something in him, something in his eyes that burned with hot determination. Miranda could tell from the moment she had met him a few years prior that he was a guy with aspirations. He wasn’t one to just bend over and let himself be steamrolled. 

Miranda respected that in a man.

Sherman shifted. “... Well… good talk, I suppose.”

Miranda nodded. “... You too.”

Sherman gave Miranda one last long look before standing up and walking off through the strawberry fields. Fuck, he wanted to kill something. Or someone. Or himself. He wondered if Ellis would be too traumatized if he had to Squeegee him off the Big House driveway. He’d been so fucking close to confessing to this girl, this _beautiful_ girl, this girl that he almost thought of as _his girl_ , and he pussed out. 

He stormed into the cabin main. Ellis Wakefield was frying ants with a magnifying glass. “Ellis!”

Ellis looked up. “What?”

“You and me! Right now! Let’s go!”

Ellis grabbed his sword and ran at him. Sherman parried him. Ellis tried to hack at him a few times. Sherman caught it all those times. Sherman rammed him with the butt of his sword and sent him tumbling down the hill. “I win.”

Ellis scowled and spat into the dirt. “I’ll get you next time, you shit-eating assbag.”

“Sure you will, dick nips.”


	2. "I don't have an issue!"

“So,” Clarisse started. “Why were you storming around like a giant fucking idiot earlier today? What’s your issue?” She was lying on her top bunk bed with her feet hanging over the side.

“I don’t have an issue,” Sherman mumbled. Sherman and Ellis were throwing darts at Clarisse’s dartboard. They’d taken care to remove the picture of Percy Jackson that normally adorned it before use.

“Right. Sure you don’t. Who pissed on your bonfire today?”

“Nobody!” Sherman growled. “The only reason I’m pissed is because you’re probing balls deep into my personal life!”

“See, this is why you all think I hate you. Because every time I try and show you any affection or concern at all, you tell me to fuck off.”

Sherman rolled his eyes. “And I’m sure if I told you whatever was bugging me, you absolutely  _ wouldn’t _ shame me for it, or tell half the camp, or…”

Clarisse didn’t respond to that. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“No!” Sherman lied angrily. “It’s not a fucking girl. And it’s not a boy, either. I’m not a-”

“-Yeah, I know,” Clarisse said flatly. She shimmied down the ladder and pulled on her combat boots and camo jacket. “I’m going out.”

“It’s a half-hour to curfew.”

“Don’t give a shit,” Clarisse muttered, letting the door slam behind her.

Sherman turned back to the dartboard, slinging a dart hard. He hit a little off center. “Twenty-five points. Your go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for short chapter. The next one's way, way longer.   
> Also, I'm releasing the chapters a day or so apart to take advantage of AO3's algorithm.  
> You know, just to get this fic more than 4 or 5 reads overall.


	3. "Hey, you're kind of soft for an Ares kid."

When Sherman woke up the next morning, his first thought was that he wished he were dead.

He didn’t have nightmares that night. He didn’t have any dreams at all. And yet somehow, the first thing he saw when he woke up was Miranda Gardiner’s face, superimposed somehow on the back of his eyelids. His chest felt like it was going to explode; it was swollen and soft with the secret of Miranda, his girl.  _ His _ girl.

Sherman rolled to a sitting position. Today was going to be the day he confessed. He could feel it. He was gonna pop if he didn’t. 

He got out of bed. Clarisse hadn’t returned. There was a solid chance she had crashed in the Hermes cabin or the Big House somewhere. Ellis was lying half-in and half-out of his bed, half asleep, muttering about “those Hermes shitbags who stole his sister.” 

Sherman didn’t realize he cared that much about Clarisse.

“Hey, Wakefield. I’m gonna go take a shower. You wanna join or do you wanna stay here?”

"Go fuck yourself," Ellis muttered into the pillow.

“Would if I could, shitcunt.” Sherman stormed from the cabin to the Big House showers. They were deserted in the wake of Manhattan. He showered off quick, dried off and pulled on some of his less-crappy clothes. He ran his fingers through his hair, which hadn’t been able to stay flat since he’d started growing out his military crew cut a few months prior, and left the bathroom.

When he got to the dining pavilion for breakfast, he could see that something abnormal was happening. A big crowd had formed around something happening in the center. He could hear some girls screaming at each other.  _ Great. A catfight. That’s at least kind of interesting. Maybe someone’ll get stabbed. _

__ Sherman yawned and moved closer, pushing past two giggling Aphrodite girls to get to the front. He started when he saw the truth of the matter. Two brunette girls, one with her arm in a sling, were going at it.  _ Miranda? Katie? What? _

“... Well,  _ Dad  _ is on  _ my _ side!” yelled Miranda. 

“Oh, and since when does  _ that _ matter to you?” Katie shrieked. 

“Since… since always!” Miranda stammered. “Since when is it bad to try and stop your sister from being a  _ whore?” _

_ “You’re  _ a whore!” Katie slapped her. Miranda reeled. Before Miranda could do anything else, Katie turned around and stormed out of the dining pavilion. Miranda whirled and stormed off in the opposite direction, elbowing Sherman out of the way. He could see her clutching her injured elbow on her way out. Her head was bowed. 

He stood rooted to the spot as the crowd dispersed. For the first time in his life, his knees were weak. He was shaking hard. He wanted to punch Katie out. How dare she touch  _ his _ girl like that. Without thinking, his legs began to move. He was running after Miranda. Camp Half-Blood turned to a blur as he ran. The air seared in his lungs and his chest squeezed. 

He skidded into the strawberry fields and came to a complete stop. The warm air glistened over a sea of light green. No brunette curls or dark blue hospital slings in sight. He caught his breath. “Miranda!”

There was no sound but the chirping of a few odd sparrows.

“... Miranda? Are you here? It… it’s me, Sherman!”

Nothing.

“... I’m worried about you!” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could react.

_ “Why?” _ The cry shot out from right behind him. He whirled. Miranda was standing there. Tears and snot were running down her face.

Sherman vaulted the bushes in between them and stood face-to-face with her. “Because I… I…” The words died on his tongue. “I care about you, Randa. Let’s just say that.”

Miranda bowed her head. “... What should I think?”

“About what?”

“About this! I just… Katie… I just wanted to protect her and she… and she…”

“I know,” Sherman murmured. He wiped the tears and snot off her face with the bottom of his shirt. 

“I mean, Clarisse… she treats you bad. How long does it take her to forgive you for the things you do?”

“I wouldn’t know, Randa. Clarisse doesn’t forgive.”

Miranda sniffled. “When will she forgive me?”

“Miranda, I don’t know.” He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, but he didn’t know if it worked. 

Miranda put her head in her one free hand and began to weep out loud. 

Sherman moved towards her. He held out his arms. “Come here.”

Miranda huddled against him and buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her one good arm around his back. Sherman wrapped his arms gently around her and held her close. He’d always wanted to be close to her, but he’d never imagined that it would go like this. He’d never thought there would be tears involved. 

He eased them down so that she was sitting in his lap, curled up in his arms with her legs and good arm wrapped around him. He rested his cheek against her soft curls and closed his eyes. 

A moment passed. Miranda lifted her head. She seemed calmer. “... Thank you.”

“... It’s fine,” Sherman managed. “I’m just glad you feel a little better.”

“... Not really,” Miranda sniffled. “But still, thank you.” She wiped her eyes. Her green irises were bright against her bloodshot sclera. “... Hey, you’re kind of soft for an Ares kid.”

“Shut… I mean, okay. Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“Maybe Lou Ellen. But it’s not like  _ she’s _ coming after me.”

“Why not?” Sherman asked.

“Well… she… she gets a little awkward when emotions come out.”

“So do I. She should still be here to help you out.” Sherman paused. “... the bitch.”

“She’s not as bad once you get to know her,” Miranda whispered. 

“Gods, I should hope so. If she were worse she’d be even worse than Clarisse,” Sherman chuckled.

Miranda sniffled and wiped her eyes, managing a wan smile. “... No one’s worse than Clarisse.”

“If there is someone, I don’t want to know.” Sherman shook his head. 

There was a pause. Miranda put her head back on Sherman’s shoulder. He rubbed her back gently. She sighed. “... Thanks. Again.”

“I already said that you’re welcome.”

“No, seriously. It means a lot.” 

He met her eyes, Gods, they were brilliant. “... I’m glad to be of service.”

Miranda gave a watery chuckle. “... You’re funny, you know that?”

Sherman sighed and smiled. This girl was killing him. “I’m glad I can make you happy.”

Miranda paused and looked down. “... Are your legs going numb?”

“Maybe a little. Not that much,” Sherman lied. It had probably been a good five minutes since he had any feeling whatsoever in his legs, but at the same time, he didn’t want her to move.

Miranda studied his face. “... I’m hungry. Do you want to go for some breakfast?”

Sherman felt his stomach growl. “... Sure, why not?”

Miranda rolled off of him and picked her way to her feet. Sherman tried to do the same, but his legs, without blood, had become as weak and shaky as Jello. He collapsed like a sack of bricks. 

“Sherman!” Miranda yelped. 

When Sherman rolled over, Miranda was hanging over him. The early morning sun in her hair made it glow like fire. “I’m okay,” he managed.

“... Why didn’t you say anything?” Miranda asked. 

“Just give me a minute,” Sherman grumbled, rubbing his calves and thighs. “Shit, I’m full of pins and needles.”

“Oh, gods, I’m sorry,” Miranda sighed. 

“... Wasn’t your fault,” Sherman muttered. 

“I mean, it was my fat behind that made your legs like that.”

Sherman bit back the comment that was percolating in his brain and rolled to his feet. “Your behind is good-fat. Thicc.”

“... I literally don’t know how to respond to that,” Miranda responded. 

They arrived on the pavilion to a few scattered stares. Katie wasn’t there, thank gods, but Clarisse was, and she fixed Sherman with a shit-eating grin when she saw that he was walking with a girl. Sherman ignored her and steered Miranda towards the food and drink. “Hey, you need some water.”

Miranda looked up from where she was pouring herself some cereal. “Cereal has milk in it. I don’t need water.”

Sherman paused. “... I don’t know how to convince you to do this, but I still think you should drink some water.”

Miranda finally grabbed a water bottle. “Happy now?”

“... Much,” Sherman responded. 

They sat on the edge of the dining pavilion together. Miranda drank the bottle of water. “... Okay, I… I think you were right about… about the water. I feel better.”

“Thought you would. If you do anything that depletes water out of you, you should replace the water.”

Miranda nodded. “Makes sense.”

There was a long pause. Miranda ate her cereal quietly. She’d set her bowl on the ground in front of her so she could eat out of it with her one good arm. Sherman took the last bite of his breakfast. “Do you need me to hold the bowl for you?”

Miranda giggled. “No, Sherman, I swear I’m okay.”

Sherman smiled at her. His chest felt warm. “... Okay.”

There was another pause. Sherman heard footsteps behind him. He turned. It was Lou Ellen. “Oh, did you finally come to check on your friend?”

“... Wow, fuck you too. Miranda, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Miranda soothed. “Sherman helped me a lot.”

Lou Ellen nodded. “Glad to hear that at least.”

“And I bet you’re glad you didn’t have to mop me up,” Miranda smiled. 

“A little bit, yes,” Lou chuckled. “Not that I don’t love you, man, but…”

“... but you don’t want to hear about my problems, you just want to have fun and live like you’ll die tomorrow.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Lou affirmed. “You got it just right.”

Sherman sighed. “Lou, that is quite possibly the dumbest-”

“-mentality you’ve ever heard? If it keeps me from jumping off a bridge then it’s not stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

Miranda nodded. Sherman could see concern set itself in her face. “I’m glad you’re not jumping off bridges, Lou.”

“Thanks.” She shifted awkwardly. “... I gotta go. Cecil and I are gonna do some shit.”

“Don’t get arrested,” Miranda said softly.

“Never have!” Lou called out over her shoulder as she ran off.

Miranda sighed. “I worry about her.”

“Why? Because she’s a compulsive thief, a pathological liar or because she’s constantly threatening suicide?”

“Those first two things aren’t even true,” Miranda denied. “And yes, I do worry about her when she threatens to do herself in. She’s my friend.”

Sherman nodded. “Makes some sense.”


	4. "Be gentle with her."

A few days passed. Sherman had been running laps around Miranda the whole time. Every time they had had the chance to talk, they’d be interrupted by something or other before Sherman could work up the courage to say anything. In the meantime, he’d been helping Clarisse and Annabeth and Jake Mason dig the hole that would connect the new bathroom that the Ares cabin was gonna build to the camp sewer line. It was chaotic and exhausting work, and by the end of the day Sherman was so covered in dirt and other who-knows-what he didn’t even want to be near Annabeth, much less his girl.

Katie, meanwhile, had fled camp. She’d gone to stay at her dad’s for a little while. She’d said she needed some time away from Miranda.

It had broken Miranda’s heart.

Miranda had came to the Ares cabin in sobbing tears when she’d learned. Sherman had quickly run her to the Demeter cabin to keep Clarisse and Ellis from bullying her when she was weak. He’d taken her in his arms and they’d curled up on her bunk, him rubbing her back until she’d finally calmed down enough to fall asleep. She felt so good in his arms that he didn’t want to put her down. Unfortunately, his legs were more asleep than she was. He gently slid her down and laid her head on the pillow, wrapping her in the sheets. He stood up and took one last look at her.

He noticed something sitting at the foot of her bed. _The Language of Flowers_ _? Some chick book, I’d bet._ He picked it up. _Never mind, it’s a Demeter-kid book. Flower symbolism my ass. Why can’t we have some things in this world that just mean what they seem and don’t have any hidden meaning? This is stupid._

_… I wonder what roses mean._

He flipped through the book with a grumble. He’d never been one for flowers. Sure, they were pretty, but they died within days and wouldn’t grow without constant care. Sherman hated things like that. 

_… Sons of bitches and whores. Never knew that different colors mean different things. That’s so stupid. Okay, it says the red ones mean true love. Explains why we give them to girls on Valentine’s._

He threw the book back onto the bed with a snort and left the Demeter cabin.

He stepped out into the fading light of dusk. The Ares cabin burned red against the setting sun. The barbed wire looked like a black veil around it. He knew that Clarisse would be in there somewhere, nursing a wound named Silena. Ellis would be there too, skirting her carefully, trying not to incite Hurricane Clarisse. Tension in the Ares cabin had increased twentyfold after Silena had died. It had gotten to the point where Sherman had begun to resent the poor girl, even though what happened to her wasn’t her fault. 

He pushed through the hole in the barbed wire and knocked on the door. Ellis opened it. “Oh… hey. It’s you.”

“Yeah, your brother. The dude who’s lived with you for years. Fuck off, twat.” Sherman pushed past Ellis and flopped into bed. 

“Are you pissed because that Demeter girl is blueballing you?”

“Fuck you, I… wait, how did you know that she and I even knew each other?”

“Dude, she came here bawling her eyes out and you pulled her out of here and you were gone for, like, an hour. I saw the whole thing when I was coming back here for my sword.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

“Dude, men get kept on strings by women all the time. No biggie. Just give her some patience and time and see if she comes around,” Ellis suggested.

Sherman rolled to a sitting position. “Since when are you the woman whisperer?”

“I’m not. I’m just telling you to be gentle with her. I think she’s… I think she’s very fragile right now. And I think she just needs some time. The TLC you’re giving her will help, but she needs some time before you try to get romantic with her. Plain and simple.”

Sherman groaned. The want of her was killing him. “... I guess so.”

“Yeah, man,” Ellis nodded. “I’m glad you can see that.” 

Sherman was silent. He looked around. “Where’s Clarisse?”

“I don’t know. Probably necking with Chris in the Big House basement.”

“Well, if she’s busy being dicked down she can’t be busy trying to kill us. That’s a bennie at least,” Sherman muttered.

“Definitely,” Ellis responded. There was a long pause. “... Say, what do you think their kids would be like?”

“In what terms?”

“I don’t know. Like… what if the kid got… like… her aggression and his sneakiness?”

“Ever heard of the Nightstalker?”

“... What?” Ellis asked.

“He was a serial killer. Richard Ramirez.”

“I… oh, fuck you.” Ellis paused. “... You have a point, though.”

“I’m aware. Also… what if the kid got… like…” Sherman paused. “... his IQ and her motivation level?”

“You’d get a highly motivated person of average IQ, I suppose,” Ellis responded.

They heard a door open. A disheveled Clarisse La Rue stood there. Her eyes were red. Her hair looked even messier than normal. “Boys.”

“Girl,” Sherman replied.

“You’re right. Good job.” She pulled her boots off and poked around in the back of the cabin for a second. “Where’s my knife collection?”

“Where it always is,” Ellis responded. 

Clarisse pulled out an ornate box from the corner. “Thanks, man.”

“Why do you need them? You gonna fight someone?” 

“Nah. I just… wanted to play with them a little.”

Sherman nodded. “Okay. Just don’t stab anyone.”

“Can’t guarantee that,” she muttered.

Sherman nodded. He watched as she traced the lines on her hands and wrists with the tip of a monogrammed fish-gutting knife. One of her favorites. “What are you gonna do, slash your wrists?”

“... Nah,” Clarisse sighed, putting the knife back in the box. “Too much effort.”

Sherman nodded and closed his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to say any more. If Clarisse became self-destructive, it wasn’t his problem. She’d treated him like an animal. Why should he be any better to her?

A vague warmth surrounded him as he lay there. He was sleepy. He yawned and buried his face in his pillow.

“You tired, Sherm?” Ellis asked. 

“Little bit,” Sherman muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for noneventful chapter. I promise it's gonna get better.  
> Also, I have no idea where this is going. I'm kinda making it up as I go. I hope no one minds that.


	5. Red Roses

Sherman found himself in the Demeter cabin once more. He was alone. All the beds were immaculately made. The plants were thicker than ever. Red roses climbed the walls and grass covered the floor, growing tall enough to tickle on his calves. The air was warm and there was no sign of human life anywhere.

He looked down. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts. No socks, no shirt. Damn. He shuffled awkwardly, the soft dirt giving way under his toes. He was about to try and find proper clothes so he could leave for the Ares cabin when he noticed a bright red apple sitting on the pillow of what was supposed to be Miranda’s bunk. _Hey. Apple. Sweet._

He picked it up. Before he could take a bite, the smell of roses filled his nose. His chest tightened. It was overpowering. He opened his mouth to get more air and roses bloomed and fell from his tongue. He expected it to hurt, but it really only tickled. 

Pale graceful hands extended out and caught the scattering and disintegrating petals in their palms. Sherman looked up. Miranda sat in front of him wearing some sort of tank top/short shorts pajama combination with ribbons on them. Her green eyes glittered in the dim light. 

She met Sherman’s eyes. “Thank you so much, Sherman. They’re beautiful.”

Sherman hiccuped. His chest burned-was he suffocating? No, he realized, his face was buried in his pillow. He rolled over onto his side and took a deep breath. The air had a metallic tang to it. _Ah. Good ol’ Ares cabin. Has the horn been blown yet?_

He opened one eye. The thin light of morning was just barely beginning to peek through the blinds. _Shit. Was that a fucking sign? That dream was a fucking sign. Are the gods trying to get me to buy flowers for Miranda? I mean, I’d do better to give her a little packet of seeds and see what she does with them. She’s a real competent gardener, at least._

_… I’ll talk to Chiron after breakfast and see if he’ll let me out of camp for an hour or so. I mean, normally he’d tell me to fuck off but he’s chilled out a lot so maybe he’ll let me go if I bring a few others. Hey, I could make a quest out of it._

Sherman knocked on the door of Chiron’s office. “Who’s there?”

“... Sherman. Sherman Yang.”

“Oh, Sherman. Come in,” Chiron called. 

Sherman opened the door. The old centaur stood in front of a wall of miscellaneous photographs. “May I talk to you about something?”

“Go ahead. Look, I added a few more photos to my photo wall. How do they look?”

“Great, Chiron,” Sherman answered, not really looking. “Anyway, I…” Sherman took a deep breath. “I need your permission to leave camp for a few hours.”

“Only that long?” Chiron asked. “Why, what’s happening?”

“Uh…” Sherman stammered. “... I need… something.”

“What’s the something?” Chiron asked. 

“Uh…” Sherman’s face was red as a beet.

“... Come on, son.” Chiron’s voice was gentle. “You can tell me anything.”

“... I need some flowers.”

Chiron raised an eyebrow. “Flowers.”

“... Yeah,” Sherman muttered.

“... Is there a reason you can’t get them from the Demeter cabin? They usually have some ready to pick.”

“... The girl is _from_ the Demeter cabin,” Sherman whispered.

“... Okay.” Chiron paced. “... How about this. There’s a flower shop about half an hour from camp. If you can pick two people to go with you, I’ll let you go without a prophecy. Okay?”

Sherman’s heart leapt. “Okay! I… okay. Um… Ellis. No. Uh… no, yeah, Ellis and… who else do I not hate? Um…”

 _And this is why I told him he had to find two others,_ Chiron thought. “Are you having trouble picking?”

“No! Ellis and… Malcolm Pace. From Athena.”

“... Okay.”

“I’ll go talk to them! Be right back!” Sherman called over his shoulder as he sprinted from the Big House.

"You want me to go _where_ to get _what_ for _who?"_ Malcolm asked incredulously.

"I want you to come with me to a flower shop to help me get a bunch of flowers for a Demeter girl."

Malcolm looked at Sherman like he was seriously about to tell him to go fuck himself. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. I haven't gotten a quest since before Manhattan. I'll go on your stupid mission. You happy?"

Sherman nodded. "Thanks, man. I'll return the favor, I promise." 

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Malcolm muttered as Sherman ran off.

Sherman didn't hear him. He could see across the cabin main to where Ellis was, once again, frying ants with a magnifying glass. "Ellis!"

 _A-fucking-gain?_ "Whaddya need, Sherm?"

“I need your help.”

“With what?” Ellis groaned, leaning back. The early morning sun made his red hair glow like fire. 

“With a mission. You, Malcolm and I are goin’ on a little quest. It’ll only take an hour or so, but we still need to take three people total and whatnot. Chiron says rules are rules.”

Ellis sat up. “What’s the quest?”

“We’re gonna go to a flower shop that’s about a half hour away. I had a dream last night where I gave Miranda some flowers and she liked them. I figured it had to be prophetic.”

Ellis looked at him and burst out laughing. “You _what?_ I… Sherman, are you out of your _mind?”_

Sherman smiled. His chest felt light. “Maybe a little, but who cares?”

“Sherman… _gods,_ you’re an idiot.” Ellis shook his head. “Get over here so I can slap you. I mean, I just told you _yesterday_ that she probably would need some time.”

Sherman didn’t oblige. “I remember what you told me, but… I just want to confess, you know?”

“That makes sense.” Ellis nodded. “But why do _I_ have to come along?”

“Come on, man, it’s just a little trip. Who knows, it could go horribly wrong!”

“And then we’d get to kill something!” Ellis grinned. “I’m picking up what you’re putting down. What do you think the odds of that are?”

“Eh… moderate?” Sherman replied. “I mean, maybe 70 percent?”

“I like those odds,” Ellis nodded.

“I hate those odds.” They hadn’t even heard Malcolm approach. “You two are being idiotic. If we’re gonna go running off on some quest, we need a plan. Even if it’s a tiny quest, we still need a plan.”

“Okay. Here’s the plan,” Sherman started. “We set off via pegasus, fly a half hour to the florist shop, buy a dozen roses and fly back. I’ll round up a box to keep the flowers in so they don’t get destroyed if something goes wrong.”

“Oookay,” Malcolm sighed exasperatedly. “Do we know how to get to the shop? Any idea at all?”

“I’m gonna get it from Chiron,” Sherman announced.

Malcolm sighed again. Exasperation was written all over his face. “Fine. You do that. When are we going? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

“As soon as I get the info from Chiron! Pack your bags!” shouted Sherman as he ran off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna hold any chapters anymore. AO3 algorithm be damned. This isn't getting too many reads anyway, so I'm just gonna release these things as I write them.  
> Also, I'm sorry if the mildly erotic beginning of the chapter bugged some of you. If Sherman has any more of those dreams I'll start tagging them better.


	6. "Shut up, nerd boy! I have a girl to impress!"

An hour later, Sherman, Malcolm and Ellis met by the pegasus stables. Sherman had a backpack, a sword and a map. Ellis had a shield, a backpack and a sword. Malcolm had a backpack and a dagger. A pair of giant Celestial bronze steampunk goggles adorned his face. “Dude,” Ellis asked, “what the fuck are those?”

“I can’t wear my glasses on quests. They’ll break. And contacts itch your eyes if you wear them for too long.”

“Shut up, nerd boy! I have a girl to impress!” Sherman replied brightly. He whistled down three pegasi and slung himself onto the back of one. “Come on!”

Ellis and Malcolm reluctantly obliged. Sherman whooped and steered his pegasus into the sky. Malcolm and Ellis did the same, flying side-by-side in a triangle formation with Sherman at the head.

“... You know, I’m just glad to see him so… animated,” Ellis mused. 

“Animated?” Malcolm questioned. 

“Yeah. He hasn’t been this excited about anything in a long time. Since the Battle of the Labyrinth.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re glad, I suppose,” Malcolm mused. He pointed to a harpy that was divebombing towards them. “Incoming!”

Ellis and Malcolm dodged and let the harpy go tumbling through. “Bitch!” she cried.

“Bitch!” Ellis retorted. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

“Just that I was glad you were happy,” Malcolm responded. 

There was a pause. Sherman broke the silence with a spurt of bright, idiotic laughter. “Man, I wish there were asteroids coursing through here or some shit.”

“ _Why?”_ Malcolm asked incredulously.

“Just to spice shit up a little,” Sherman responded. 

Malcolm peered out at the horizon. “Well, you’re gonna get some spice soon. I think that harpy told some girlfriends we were here.”

Sherman drew his sword and held the pegasus’s reins a little tighter in his non-dominant hand. “Awesome. I’m ready.”

“Let’s fuckin’ go!” Ellis shrieked, barreling towards the harpies. 

Malcolm huffed. If he’d known he’d be on babysitting duties, he would never have accepted this quest in the first place. He was starting to understand how his sister felt when she was questing with Clarisse. 

He huffed a breath and dive-bombed after Ellis and Sherman. “On your left!” he shouted. He spiraled past Sherman and caught a harpy on the talon. She screeched and disintegrated. Sherman stabbed another harpy through the belly. Ellis bellowed and slashed wildly around him, sending harpies scattering. A talon glanced off of Malcolm’s goggles. He was once again thankful for them. 

“Fuck!” Sherman felt a talon tear through the skin on his shoulder. It burned like acid. He stabbed at the harpy. It dissolved into dust. He looked over his shoulder and saw Ellis kill off the last harpy. “Ellis?”

“What?”

“We have an issue.” Sherman presented his arm, which was drizzling blood. 

“Shit,” Ellis sighed. We’re gonna need to land to bandage that. That could get hazardous if you leave it the way that it is.”

Sherman sighed and steered the pegasus to earth. Ellis followed. Sherman dismounted and sat on the curb. Ellis took Sherman’s arm in his hands. It was torn open from the shoulder to the elbow. “Gods. That might need stitches.”

“Can we complete our mission first?”

“... Sure,” Ellis relented. 

Malcolm thought he saw concern write its way across Ellis’s face. “I can bandage that. It may not stop the bleeding but it’ll work for the duration of the quest.”

Ellis turned to him. Sherman’s blood was running down his hands and dripping from his palms. “Please do.”

Malcolm pulled a roll of gauze, a washcloth and a plastic bottle of nectar from his backpack. He wet the washcloth with the nectar. “I’m gonna need you to let go of his arm, Ellis.”

Ellis did as he was told. Blood gushed down Sherman's arm. “Shit,” Malcolm muttered. “That’s gonna… that’s gonna leave a scar.”

“I know that, you arrogant Athena cuck,” Sherman growled. “Just bandage me. Once again, I have a girl to impress.”

Malcolm shook his head and wiped Sherman’s arm down with the nectar before wrapping it tightly in gauze. “That should hold. I’d still suggest you get Chiron to stitch you up later. Don’t go to the Apollo kids, they’re all out of commission. Will is sick as a dog from an infection in a gut wound and Kayla’s only, like, ten.”

“I’d rather bleed out,” Sherman muttered. “Hell, I’d rather get the wound cauterized by Clarisse’s spear.”

Malcolm shook his head. “You all are ridiculous, do you know that? You got the chariot and _still_ you hold a grudge.”

“Yeah, well, that little shitbag Solace made me speak in rhyming couplets or some shit for, like, two days. He’s lucky he’s not taking my sword up his ass. Trust me, it’s not the chariot anymore.”

“Honestly, depending on which sword we’re talking about, he may like it. Now, your arm’s bandaged. You want to finish this quest or not?” 

Sherman huffed. He stood up and remounted his pegasus. “Good. Let’s go.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes and remounted his pegasus. Ellis followed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They flew on. Malcolm let his mind wander. It amazed him how some people would keep grudges over the stupidest little things. After all, there were so many greater evils out there than two piddling little Apollo kids who were barely able to stand on their own two feet half the time. Every time Malcolm had seen Kayla since the battle she looked to be seconds away from tears. As for Will, he was near death in an infirmary bed deep in septic shock. He’d assumed that since the Apollo kids had suffered such heavy losses the Ares kids would have some forgiveness and mercy. He should have assumed that that wouldn’t come easy for them.

“It’s down there.” Sherman’s voice broke through Malcolm’s thoughts. 

Malcolm squinted. “... Yeah. I think I see it.” A pink sign labeled ROZZIE’S ROSES adorned a small building. They landed the pegasi at the side of the building so poor Rozzie’s customers wouldn’t get spooked and walked inside. 

A plump woman stood behind a counter in front of more flowers than Sherman had ever seen in his life. “Hello, sweeties,” she cooed. 

“Don’t worry,” Malcolm whispered. “She’s normal. Not a monster.”

“How can you tell?” Ellis whispered. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Malcolm returned.

“Hmm?” the lady asked. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Sherman said. “They’re my… my brother and my cousin. They’re… uh… doing a roleplay challenge. They have to pretend that they’re heroes who defeat monsters and that. It’s garbage.”

“Oh, how nice,” she tittered. “Anyway, how may I help you today?”

“Give me a dozen… a dozen roses. Please.”

“Oh, of course! Who’s the girl?”

“Just a girl I met… a girl I met in a summer camp,” Sherman stammered.

The lady turned and started gathering roses into a bouquet. “Oh, how nice. Back when I did sleepaway camps I had a boyfriend too. His name was Jacob and he… what time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Sherman responded. 

“Anyway, here are your roses. Good luck with the girl, dear.”

Sherman paid for the roses and left. The ride home was silent, at least to Sherman. The excited butterflies in his tummy had turned into snakes. His intestines were writhing. It was agony. 

He arrived back to camp, took the roses and went straight to the Demeter cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. Will won't die. He's sick, very sick, but he won't die. He got a belly wound during Manhattan and didn't clean it up or care for it at all, so it got infected. He's sick, but he won't die.


	7. Flower Box

A sharp pain jolted Miranda out of a dead sleep. “Oh gods! I… I’m so sorry!” 

Miranda opened an eye. It was Lou Ellen. She’d… accidentally? purposefully?... kicked her in her injured arm. “What do you want?”

“Why did you fall asleep out here in the strawberry fields?” Lou asked.

Miranda sat up. The warm dirt that had cradled her so gently as she slept was getting tangled up in her hair. “I… I don’t know. I’ve been… ever since the Battle of Manhattan I’ve just been so tired all the time…”

“Think you have mono or something?” Lou asked.

Miranda yawned and brushed the dirt out of her hair. “... No. Probably not.”

Lou nodded. “All right. I won’t worry if you won’t. Anyway… I’m here because…” She paused. “... I don’t know how to tell you this, but I saw Sherman Yang sneaking around the outside of the Demeter cabin just a few minutes ago.”

“He’s not a thief. He wouldn’t steal things.” Miranda gave Lou a stern look. “Lou, did you steal something out of my cabin? Because if you did, you shouldn’t frame him for it.”

“No! Well, not from  _ your _ cabin. Anyway, I never stole from you. I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”

“Right. So what, do you think I should inventory my panties or something?”

“I don’t know. He was carrying a big box.”

“What kind of box?” Miranda asked.

“Couldn’t tell. It was big and white.”

“Like… a flower box or something?”

“I don’t know what a flower box looks like, but you would, so maybe?”

Miranda’s heart sank. “... I think I know what’s happening.”

“What?”

“I think he’s in love, secretly, with someone. I think he… I think he was stealing flowers for someone.”

Lou Ellen shrugged. “Maybe.” She studied Miranda’s face. “You look like that upsets you.”

“... No. No, it doesn’t. He can date who he wants. I just… I got… when he started being so sweet to me recently, I started to think that maybe… I don’t know.”

“You thought he had a crush on you, didn’t you?” Lou grinned.

“... Yeah,” Miranda admitted. “But I may have misinterpreted the situation, I don’t know.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It may not have been a flower box at all.”

“... Yeah,” Miranda said miserably. “... I should go make sure he didn’t atomize my flowers.”

“Hey,” Lou said, her voice suddenly gentle. “Let’s go together.”

Miranda nodded. The two girls walked side-by-side to the Demeter cabin. “Well,” Miranda sighed. “At least there aren’t windows broken.”

“That’s good,” nodded Lou. 

They went inside. Miranda surveyed the cabin. “... Well, nothing seems disturbed.” She gently touched over some of the countless plants that filled the cabin. “The plants don’t seem cut up, either.”

“Uh… Miranda?” Lou asked, gesturing towards Miranda’s bunk. “Come see this.”

_ Oh, gods. What happened to my bed? _ Miranda bolted over. “What is it?”

Lou Ellen held up a bouquet of red roses with a triumphant grin. “This.”

Miranda stopped in her tracks. “I… I don’t understand. Why…?”

“No fucking clue. I don’t know why the hell anyone would get hard because of  _ you, _ of all people. Read the card.”

Miranda carefully took the bouquet. “To… to my… to Miranda.  _ My _ girl. The ‘my’ is in italics. From… does that say  _ secret admirer?” _

Lou leaned in. “Yeah, I think it does!”

Miranda blushed. “I… I’m honored. I don’t know who… I don’t know… I don’t know who or why but I’m honored.”

“I mean, you know it’s just Sherman, right? I mean, he was sneaking around your cabin moments before these were found.”

“... Maybe.” Miranda’s heart lifted. “... I can’t believe it. My whole perspective on this boy… changed in a minute. Can’t believe it.”

“Life does shit like that,” Lou agreed. 

“I… I should talk to him. Try and see if it was him,” Miranda mused. 

“Go ahead,” Lou shrugged. “I’m gonna go try and see if I can’t make Greek fire out of cheap vodka. Keep me posted.”

Miranda rolled her eyes as the two girls headed for the door. “Don’t blow yourself up.”


	8. In Which Sherman Spends A Lot Of Time Brooding Until Ultimately Deciding to Take Action

Sherman knocked on the door of Chiron’s office for the second time that day. “Chiron?”

“Who- oh, Sherman. Hello, my boy. How did it go?”

“I got the flowers okay. I couldn’t find her afterwards, though, so I just left them on her bunk.”

“Okay. Anything else of note?”

“Just this.” Sherman presented his injured arm. “Malcolm says it might need stitches.”

Chiron sighed. “All right. Let’s go take a look at it.”

Chiron led him to the infirmary. Annabeth Chase accosted them as soon as they came in. Her face was red and she was panting. “Chiron!”

“... Yes, dear?” 

“Will… I think he’s out of his mind.”

Chiron gestured for Sherman to sit down and pulled out a roll of stitches thread and a needle. “Go on.”

“He won’t stop crying and he called me his mother and…” Annabeth gasped for breath. “... and I don’t know what to do.”

“Can you give him any more ambrosia and nectar?”

Annabeth looked deflated. “I… I can try.”

“Give him that and another antibiotic. See if that helps.”

Annabeth nodded and ran off to do that. 

“My apologies. Will is very sick. Anyway…” Chiron gently unwrapped Sherman’s arm. A trickle of blood ran down his arm and dripped to the floor. “... Malcolm was right. This  _ is  _ gonna need stitches. Do you want a stress ball or something to hold on to while I do it?”

“No,” Sherman growled. 

“Ah, right,” Chiron nodded, piercing Sherman’s skin with the needle. 

Sherman gritted his teeth. Every prick of his swollen wound was a new agony. Damn his body. He hated the way pain could incapacitate. His chest was tight. He’d always been told to breathe through the pain, but no one had ever told him how hard it would be.

“... Are you almost done?” Sherman managed. 

“About halfway now,” Chiron replied.

Sherman managed a nod. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. He wondered if Miranda had seen those flowers yet. He wondered if giving a Demeter kid cut flowers was some sort of faux pas, if maybe he should have gone with seeds after all or even a whole rosebush.  _ At least my name isn’t on it. If she does hate it, she won’t blame me. _

_ But what if she loves it? Then she won’t be able to trace it to me. Although maybe she’ll guess. I did say it was from a secret admirer. Is it obvious I admire her? _

“Okay, done,” Chiron said, breaking his stream of thought. “You’re all stitched and bandaged.”

“Thanks,” Sherman mumbled.

“Just don’t try anything while you’re healing, okay? Be careful with yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Sherman muttered. He stood up and made his way to the door. The snakes in his belly had morphed into full-on anacondas. His stomach turned. He wanted to vomit. 

He hated being so weak.

He walked out of the Big House and wandered back to the Ares cabin. Clarisse, Nyssa and Ellis were hooking up the sewer and water lines. Nyssa was down in the ditch they dug for the pipes, Ellis and Clarisse were sitting above her on the edge. “Bro!” Ellis greeted. “Is your arm feeling better?”

“Little bit,” Sherman grumbled. “... You three need any help?”

“Not unless you know anything about plumbing,” Nyssa cut in. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead with sweat. She was wearing cruddy overalls and worn-out work boots.

“... I don’t,” Sherman mumbled. “So I’ll just sit here, I guess.” He flopped down on the side of the ditch next to Ellis. 

“Why are you so bitchy?” Clarisse asked. “Is it because of that Demeter girl Ellis told me was keeping you on the ropes?”

“... No,” Sherman lied.

“You don’t think I know why you and Ellis left camp this morning?” Clarisse smirked. “Look, dude, you’re crushing hard. It’s best if you don’t start deluding yourself and saying you’re not.”

“I don’t need to take relationship advice from you,” Sherman growled. 

“Eh. Not worth it to me to beat it through your head either,” Clarisse shrugged. 

“Good. I don’t feel like bugging Chiron for heals twice in one day.”

“Yeah. What’s even happening in there? Like all the Apollo kids are dead.”

“Will’s dying of septic shock or something. All the girl does is cry. Chiron and Annabeth are healing everybody now.”

Clarisse nodded. “Sounds about right.” She paused. “Does Annabeth just do everything around here now? I feel like everywhere I turn, boom, there she is. Architecture, construction, medicine and hospital work. I go and try to pick an honest fight with Jackass from Cabin Three and there she is with her tongue in his mouth. It’s nuts.”

Sherman nodded. 

“I turn to do some cabin renovations and there she is. Offering to help. I grab a forklift to help dig the plumbing trench and she’s already planned it so I don’t hit any other lines or pipes. I can’t believe how many pies that girl has fingers in.”

“Some people are just made to do work, I guess,” Sherman nodded. 

Sherman kicked his feet and looked down at Nyssa. He remembered that some time ago she had had a boyfriend. An Apollo kid, he remembered. He remembered there being some drama with her when he had died, something involving his funeral pyre. Sherman hadn’t really been paying that much attention. 

He studied her a little more. She was a grungy girl, chubby and perpetually unclean and unkempt with hair that was constantly stringy. Not his type at all. It wasn’t even like he hated fat girls, it was just that he preferred girls who were cleaner… more sparkly in spirit… who took care of themselves… who regularly washed and conditioned their hair… their shiny, light brown, curly hair… 

_ Shit. _ He was thinking about Miranda again. His mind drifted back to the roses he’d left on her bed. Fucking hell. He had to find her and speak to her about those flowers. The not knowing was killing him.

He stood up and walked off to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're actually gonna talk next chapter. I promise.


	9. Conquest

Miranda had just finished putting the roses in a vase when she heard a knock at the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me. Sherman.”

Butterflies hatched deep in Miranda’s gut and fluttered through her stomach and intestines, landing in some unplaceable area in her lower abdomen. She opened the door. “Hey.”

“... Hey.” Sherman shuffled nervously. “Can we… can we talk?”

Miranda nodded. “... Sure. Come in.”

Sherman immediately noticed that she’d put the roses in a vase and hung the vase on one of the branches of the big tree that grew in the middle of the cabin.  _ Good sign.  _ “... So… how are you?”

“Ah… I’m okay. Still… still a little bit… hurting.”

Sherman cocked his head. “Over Katie?”

“... Yeah. And the battle… and… you know.”

“It’s barely been two weeks,” Sherman murmured. “I think a lot of people are still hurting.”

Miranda nodded. She ran her hand over her sling carefully. 

“Does your arm still hurt?” Sherman asked. 

“A little. Didn’t help that Lou Ellen accidentally kicked it.”

“Crazy bitch. Was it at least by accident?”

“Yeah. She just didn’t watch where she was going is all. I was literally asleep in the strawberry fields and she tripped over me. Which was good because she came to tell me something.” Miranda looked intently at Sherman.

Sherman’s belly twisted. “... What was it?”

“Lou saw you sneaking into my cabin a few hours ago.”

“Oh… uh…” Sherman’s mouth was dry. “I… um… I don’t…”

“Spit it out,” Miranda said soothingly.

“I… yeah… the… the roses?”

“The one with ‘to Miranda:  _ my _ girl; from: your secret admirer’ written on them?” Miranda asked teasingly. There was no malice in her voice.

“Uh… yeah… those. Um… do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you for giving them, by the way.”

“I… how did you…”

“Why the hell else would you have been so nice to me in the past week or so?” Miranda giggled. “I’ve never known an Ares kid to be that nice to someone that they didn’t want to make out with.”

Sherman paused. She had a point. “I… Okay, you’re right. It was me. I just… I thought… okay. I had a dream where I gave you some flowers and you liked them, so…”

“Uh huh. And I’m assuming that all of this means you want to get in my panties.” Miranda crossed her arms and smirked.

“No! I… it’s not like that. I swear.”

“So what is it like?” 

“I… I don’t… Miranda, I really… I don’t know how to say it. I’m so sorry. But it’s not just that I want to get in your panties. It’s more than that.”

Miranda nodded. She scanned his face intently. “So… what? Are you asking me out?”

Sherman took a breath. “... Yes.”

“Sherman, I… I hope you understand that I have my concerns about this.”

Sherman nodded. 

“Concern one: we don’t know each other that well. I mean, you’ve always been nice to me, more or less, and we talk sometimes, but we don’t… like…  _ know _ each other. Like, if I were asked to say what your favorite color was…”

“Green.”

“... I wouldn’t have known what it was until right now. I don’t know where you grew up. I don’t know what you like to do save fighting. I really don’t know you very well.”

“That can be fixed. We can… we can go for long walks on the beach and talk and… do other things girls like,” Sherman attempted.

“It has nothing to do with girly things, Sherman. It has to do with the long-term stability of this potential relationship.”

“I’m just saying that we can get to know each other more. Open up to one another. And we can do it once we’re in the relationship.”

“... I guess so. Anyway, my second concern. I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

Sherman looked at her intently. “Really? Never?”

“Really. Never. I don’t know how to hold one. I don’t know what to do in one.”

“It’s just like being friends with someone, except sometimes you kiss. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told,” Sherman assured. 

Miranda studied his face. “What do you want from this in the long run? Are you even thinking that far ahead?”

“Not really, honestly,” Sherman mumbled. 

“So what were you thinking?”

Sherman thought. “... Pretty girl. Wanna kiss. Wanna hug.”

Miranda burst out laughing. “If that was your thought process, then gods help us all. Romance  _ is _ dead.” 

“But what about the roses?” Sherman asked. “I thought flowers were the epitome of romance.”

Miranda smiled sweetly. “You  _ have _ done your homework.”

“Hey, even the big dumb Ares bastard can understand some things.”

Miranda shook her head, still laughing. There was a pause as her laughter tapered off. “Oh, you’re funny.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Sherman shrugged. “Anyway… what do you say about the… the relationship?”

Miranda studied his face, her expression perfectly neutral. “... Okay. I’ve made my decision.”

Sherman’s stomach was killing him. He wanted to puke. “What is it?”

“... I’ll give it a try. I’m willing to try and make a relationship with you. But we  _ have _ to take it slow.  _ No _ exceptions. And you get  _ one _ chance.”

The pythons in Sherman’s stomach burst into a million roses. He took a deep breath and tried to conceal his excitement. “Yes. Of… of course, Miranda. I’ll do anything. Thank… thank you so much for giving me a chance.”

Miranda smiled and put a hand on his cheek. “It’s no problem on me.”

Sherman leaned into her touch. Her palms were covered in calluses. “... I’m glad. Look, Miranda, I…”

“You?”

“I care about you. Really. I mean that. And that’s not coming from my dick, that’s from the heart. I promise.”

Miranda giggled. “Thanks for the sentiment.”

“I’m not done. I just want to… look, if you need out, you can get out. You aren’t stuck here. If two weeks from now you’re miserable, I want you to tell me. Okay?”

Miranda’s chest felt warm. She stroked her thumb over his cheek. “... Thank you,” she murmured. “That really means a lot to me, Sherman. I mean that.”

Sherman smiled. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he’d done something right. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Miranda scanned his face some more, but this time she was smiling. She leaned in a little closer to him. He could feel her breath on his face, on his lips. It smelled like strawberries and grapes. 

“What are you gonna…”

He was cut off by her touching her lips to his. 

He made a sound that was probably beyond embarrassing. He took a small breath through his nose and composed himself before putting his arms around her waist. His arms fit well there. He touched his tongue to her lips, testing, seeing if it would overwhelm her, this being as delicate and ready to run as a deer. She opened her mouth a little, her own tongue touched his. It was okay. He had her. The conquered man slowly became the conqueror, and it was okay. 

Miranda relaxed, stroked her thumb over his cheekbone and let herself be conquered a  bit. After all, that was the thing with Ares kids.

You had to let them conquer sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude. I actually finished this. I know it's not really long enough to be a true pining fic, but it was my first attempt. It's 21 pages on Google Docs in Arial 11-point font.   
> And I wrote it all in one week.  
> I literally don't know the last time I wrote something this long in a week. I have no idea what to say or think. I just hope you all thought it was all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've been writing a LOT lately. Which may or may not be a good thing because I've been doing it instead of things I should be doing. Anyway, this is my first multi-chapter fic in a long time. I know it's written on probably the most obscure couple canonically together, but I still feel like it's an accomplishment nonetheless. Anyway, I banged the first three or four chapters of this out in a weekend along with the first drabble in my new drabble doc. I kind of need to write whenever I feel the desire (if I can, obviously) because if I don't, the desire will die and I won't get it again for weeks sometimes.  
> Sorry for the fucking diary entry. I just felt that my recent activity on this site needed some explanation. So you all didn't start to feel like I was spamming.


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